


Planet Of The Blondes

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Challenge Response, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: High above Dam Bada a wormhole appeared and John, mesmerised by the swirling, blue maelstrom, took a Funny Turn. Perhaps it would be best if we Never Speak Of This Again?





	Planet Of The Blondes

**Author's Note:**

> Response to my own SC113: Filler, AU, whatever to the FS ep Till The Blood Runs Clear.  It’s not as long as I’d hoped, but real life isn’t being kind to me with writing time and inspiration. 
> 
> Warnings and spoilers – not much of either. Although there is more than one odd thing about this fic, I’ll let you discover them for yourself. 
> 
> Farscape isn’t mine and no money was made from this fic. And SG1 isn't mine either, I'm pretty sure.
> 
> Thanks to Vinegardog for beta duties and inserting all my missing apostrophes. 

 

**Planet Of The Blondes**

“What the frell are you doing, Crichton!?” Although John was somewhat preoccupied with the swirling mouth of the wormhole, dead ahead, he was also vaguely aware of Aeryn’s lack of matching fascination with the beautiful, blue vortex. Her furious shouts, her attempt to turn in her seat, to wrestle the module’s joystick from his vice-like grip, all helped inform his vague suspicion that she was not entirely happy with the way developments were developing. His conscious thoughts, however, barely registered any of it, so preoccupied were they with memories of home. It was as though a mist had descended, fogging his judgement, obscuring everything else in the Universe, save the swirling blue maw into which the module was beginning to plunge. 

Home. Earth. His mom. Alex. Caroline. A thousand other blondes he had known. But scarce a dozen who had ever been as furious with him as Aeryn Sun currently seemed to be. Just so long as he didn’t end up down the wrong wormhole and end up on a planet with Charlton Heston and Roddy McDowell wearing an ape mask... 

“I’ll rip your frelling arm off, you drannit, and stick the wet end right up your…” Good grief she could be bossy. She always liked to be in charge, that one, always in the pilot’s seat. He resisted the urge to yell at her to get her hands off the controls. 

He caught sight of something round and blue at the far end of the wormhole, just for a split microt, just long enough to cement his resolve. 

Earth. Yeah, Science Fiction that was more middle of the road family fun and less a trip down the rabbit hole into a BDSM bar. 

Aeryn was free of her harness now, twisting around towards him, teeth bared in a furious snarl, arm pulled back ready to deliver a pantak jab. The view through the canopy transitioned from the  blackness of space to the blue of the wormhole. The module twisted, turned, hit turbulence strong enough to reacquaint a Hynerian with his last meal. This was fortunate for John, as the shock threw the now unrestrained Aeryn against the cabin roof, knocking her out like a light, silencing her strident and untranslatable demands. 

And down the rabbit hole they went. 

Earth. 

Big, blue-green and beautiful. 

Not that John was paying the planet they were now in low orbit around too much attention. The mist of madness had cleared as they had exited the wormhole, and now he had other, more urgent, arguably more important matters to deal with. 

“Aeryn, shit, are you OK!? Wake up! Speak to me!” There wasn’t any blood, nothing broken as far as he could determine, but he suspected she’d taken a nasty bump to the head and would wake up with a bad headache and a worse attitude. “I’m so sorry! I’ll buy you your weight in chocolate if you’ll wake up and call me a…” 

“Farscape One? Is that really you? Farscape One, come in please!” A not-as-surprised-as-he-might-have-expected female voice demanded, the transmission crackling his radio into life for the first time in monens. John spared a moment to open his mic. 

“Uh, copy that, this is Commander John Crichton, Farscape one. Who are you?” Aeryn groaned and stirred, showing life but seeming a long way from consciousness. 

“Commander…..   CRICHTON!?” The voice responded in seeming disbelief, but then seemed to rally somewhat: “This is USAF, deep space telemetry and asteroid tracking…” the voice supplied. 

“’Kay, fine, look, I’ve got a bit of a medical emergency up here, so need to land ASAP. Warn Edwardes Air Force Base not to be surprised,” John gabbled, overcome with concern for Aeryn’s wellbeing and determined to land as soon as possible to get her some medical help. 

“Medical emergency? Well, why didn’t you say so? Hang tight,” the disembodied voice reassured him. 

A strange wibbly-wobbly sensation came over John, one that was unpleasantly like being drunk. And not in the alcoholic sense, more in the glass of water sense. 

And then John found himself somewhere else. Somewhere with metal walls, medical equipment and about a dozen women in military uniform standing in a loose circle around he and Aeryn. 

“Holy teleportation Batman! Elon Musk’s sure been busy this last year!” John declared, eliciting universal frowns of incomprehension from those present. He tumbled heavily onto his eema, Aeryn slumping atop him, as they dematerialised deprived of their supporting furniture. He rallied and took in more of his surroundings, being shocked to find himself in what appeared to be the medical facility on an aircraft carrier, all metal walls, floor and ceiling. Except the ceilings were a comfortable distance from the floor. And the dozen or so assorted medical, security and senior staff loosely surrounding him and Aeryn were all dressed in Air Force uniforms, not Navy. Maybe it was a new design of ship? One with a bit of head room? 

 “Stay where you are, Mr Crichton,” a statuesque, blonde female MP wearing sergeant stripes demanded, politely yet firmly, aiming some sort of small, S-shaped weapon at him, while another marginally more diminutive MP swooped in and cuffed his wrists with practiced proficiency.  

“Just a precaution, till we sort out what’s going on here,” the airwoman cuffing him reassured him with a sweet smile. 

“Who is your companion?” Demanded a third woman, another blonde, this one with close cropped hair, an inquisitive gaze and a Colonel’s uniform. To be honest, they were all blonde. It was almost like it was part of their uniform. John caught a glimpse of her name badge, determining that her name was Carter. Colonel Carter. He filed that for reference. 

“Her name is Aeryn, and she’s hurt… She needs medical attention.” John urgently informed them. 

“That’s why we beamed you aboard,” a slightly more homely looking blonde female informed him, this one wearing the insignia of a medical captain and bearing the name badge ‘Fraser’. John struggled to stand and was rewarded by a heavy hand on his shoulder encouraging him to stay down. Fraser nodded, stepping in and taking charge of Aeryn. So, he hadn’t imagined it? Beamed aboard? What the actual Frell? 

“Lift her on to the bed, please,” Fraser ordered, and two nameless blonde airwomen swooped in, took hold of Aeryn by the ankles and shoulders, and hoisted her up onto the nearest examination bed. 

“She wasn’t aboard Farscape One when it disappeared down the wormhole,” Carter stated. “Only one crew…” 

“Careful!” John begged, feeling protective of his usually ornery shipmate. 

“I need to know, Mr Crichton, is this woman…. Human?” Fraser asked with a serious but otherwise unfathomable expression.  

“What? Why would you think that? What’s with this beaming business? Pretty sure we hadn’t moved past hippies driving Priuses…. Priae?” John babbled. “Do you meet a lot of aliens in this line of work? Where the frell are we anyway?” 

“Is she or isn’t she? I need to know to treat her,” Fraser persisted with a weary sigh. “Or is it just hair dye? Nurse, check her roots…” 

“HAIR DYE!?”  John spluttered. This was just getting weird. 

“MR CRICHTON!” Carter snapped at him, her face a mask of frustration. 

“THAT’S COMMANDER CRICHTON!” 

“Pfff!” Fraser exhaled cynically. “Commander, right…” Carter and the others seemed to ignore him. 

“Use your best judgement, Janet,” Carter instructed. “I’ll take the imposter off for debriefing.” And so saying she nodded at the sergeant, who, together with another strapping female soldier, took hold of John’s elbows, hoisted him to his feet and began to not so gently assist him towards the door. 

“AERYNNNNNN!” John howled, craning his head around in order to look back over his shoulder. His view of Fraser ministering to Aeryn was, however, already largely obscured by Carter, who was following close behind him.  

@@@@ 

“For the eleventh the time!” John sighed. “I’m Commander John Crichton, IASA.” 

“And for the bakers dozenth time….” Carter stared him down across the plain desk of what was clearly an interrogation suite. “No you’re not.” 

“Fine, fine!” John threw up his hands. “Let’s just park that one, agree to differ? Who do you say I am?” 

Carter stared at him for a long, long twenty seconds or so, rolling her jaw to one side, gently arching an eyebrow. Then she spent another ten or so seconds looking at the laptop screen in front of her, then back at John. She tutted, arched both eyebrows. 

“You do bear a remarkable physical resemblance to John Crichton, a school teacher who also….” She paused and tapped away at her keyboard. “Just happens… to be the brother of the missing pilot of Farscape One, Commander Olivia Crichton…” 

“What the frell…?” John began to splutter. However, Carter cut him off, spinning the laptop screen so John could see the picture of Olivia, resplendent in her Commander’s uniform. It was his baby sis… the school teacher from Orlando. “As if a male would have what it takes to be a scientist or and astronaut?” 

“Ummm…. I, errrr, don’t think this is my stop, Colonel Carter,’ John declared.  

“You what?” 

“Alternate realities? Wrong turn down the wormhole?” John mused. “All just theoretical, of course!” 

“The thought had occurred,” Carter nodded. “Theory allows for wormholes, such as the one through which Commander Crichton disappeared and you appeared, to lead to numerous alternate realities. Even including one where there is a dominant patriarchy….” Damn she was one smart cookie… for a blonde. Maybe she dyed her hair? 

“Or a Starship Enterprise with a transporter beam and a crew of blonde women…?” John snarked back, determined not to be outdone, especially not by a woman, a grunt and a blonde rolled into one. 

“Now, your companion,” Carter took the tone and content of his response in her stride. “Why is her hair that strange colour?” 

John’s stomach was invaded with a veritable swarm of Lepidoptera as the penny finally dropped: everyone he’d seen so far really had been blonde. And female. What a frelled up reality! How in God’s name had he ended up here? Charlton Heston and the apes mght have been an improvement. 

“Would you believe me if I said because she’s an alien?” John gave a smile that even he realised probably looked rather pathetic. 

“Yes, yes I would,” Carter nodded in all seriousness, completely unphased and taking him totally seriously. “If you stay, well… She will have to dye it to fit in, of course…” 

“You’re pulling my leg!” 

“I assure you, Mr Crichton, I have better things to do than banter with you. She will have to dye her hair. But otherwise…” 

“Otherwise what?” John could scarcely believe what he was hearing. What sort of warped reality had he somehow landed them in? It was even weirder than the Uncharted Territories. 

“There’s you. You are more of a problem. Maybe we could get you a job as an actor or something? On a science fiction show?” 

“I’m a pilot!”  

“Not on this Planet you’re not. Men don’t do that sort of job, it wouldn’t be becoming.” 

“Oh, this just gets better and better!” John laughed bitterly. 

“Besides, you guys are not really up to it, with your raging hormones and….” 

‘RAGING HORMONES!!!!?” John’s emotional damn burst. If he hadn’t been cuffed, he’d have been on his feet and getting physical. 

“My point entirely” Carter arched an eyebrow at his obvious outburst of uncontrolled emotions. “Testerical.” She rolled her eyes. 

“You WHAT?” John pouted, scrunching his eyes into a frown. 

The intercom on Carter’s desk buzzed, saving her from even attempting a reply. 

“Colonel Carter” she responded, opening the channel, calm, controlled, an amused and masterful smile playing across her lips. 

“Dr Fraser here, Sam,” John overheard the broadcast reply. “The patient, the alien female, is fine, no serious injuries.” 

“Good to hear, but then…?” 

“She came round, but was agitated, dangerously agitated. She was hollering in some sort of colicky language and lashing out. She put three Makos down before Sergeant Black zatted her.” 

“ZATTED!” John snarled. “What the frell is zatted!? You’d better not have hurt her!” 

“Mr Crichton, if you are going to fit in in this society you need to learn to be a little more… delicate. Show some masculine decorum. Nobody appreciates a stroppy male!” 

John spluttered in disbelief at the blatant sexism of her words. 

“You know what!?” John blurted out, his tongue running hot ahead of his brain. “Aeryn would never dye her hair blonde. And I’m never, ever, going to be an actor, not in this or any other reality!” 

Colonel Carter arched a skeptical eyebrow and followed up with a dismissive and cynical snort of disdain. 

“Well, Mr Crichton, what would you propose to do instead? Wait tables? You’re pretty enough, I guess…” 

“You stick us back in the module and back down the wormhole!” John snarled back, turning beetroot red with rage. “Before Aeryn comes round again and does someone some serious damage!” And I don’t want that someone to be me, he added silently to himself. 

@@@ 

“Uhhhh! Crichton! What happened, where are we?” Aeryn groaned as she stirred back to consciousness. Thank god she was alright! 

“Don’t worry, we’re down on Dam Bada,” John reassured her as he stroked the hair back from her forehead. Damn he loved the feel of her hair, and the chance to touch it without risking getting his fingers broken was too good to pass up. She scowled but allowed him to finish. “You’re going to have a nasty lump there tomorrow. Not a damn dirty ape or a blonde in sight.” 

“What?” Aeryn screwed up her features into a confused frown. 

“Blow to the head,” John shook his head and employed his best poker face. “We got caught in a bit of turbulence near the wormhole, you banged your head. The module started leaking plasma, and the rest of them insisted we land planetside instead of going back to Moya with the leak.” 

“Not surprised. Plasma leaks are bad. I had the strangest dream…“ Aeryn slurred, still clearly woozy.  

“Huh?” John grunted. 

“I had this weird dream, about you taking us down the wormhole, ending up on a ship of fair haired females….” 

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about it when you’re feeling better,” he turned his face away to hide his furtive, guilty expression. 

“In the meantime, if you’re up to walking, Rygel has found us a mechanic he says might be able to fix up the module…” 

 

The end 

 


End file.
